A Day in the Life of Two Teams
by AlphaCommand
Summary: My first FanFiction. In the world of Team Fortress, nobody is safe. Professionals, amateurs, or specialists - in the end, the circle of life will stay unchanged. But what are their stories? What happens to them before they die? Do they feel regret in their kills? This is the tale of their day-to-day lives.
1. RED Sniper

Another shot. Another kill.

That was it. That's all it was, for Sniper. Day in, day out, he shot people. Preferably in the head – he was a professional after all, and professionals needed a trademark. And a symbol to paint everywhere wasn't enough, nobody would pay attention to a bit of paint slapped hastily onto a wall in the middle of a battle. No, he needed a trademark kill – headshots.

Another shot. Another kill.

Heavies. Laughable. Too slow, their heads may as well fall off on their own. Sniper doubted the Heavies really felt the impact – their skulls were too thick. That'd explain why it often took multiple shots to kill one.

Another shot. Another kill.

An opposing sniper. He barely had time to glance through his scope before the bullet pierced his brain, burying itself deep within his skull. Sniper heard the startled cry of the fallen man's teammate as the he collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. The man, an Engineer, popped his hand out to grab the dead Sniper, to pull him back behind cover, perhaps in a futile attempt to revive him, perhaps in a sign of respect.

Another shot. A scream of pain.

The Engineer took the bullet straight to the arm, crying out and collapsing forwards over his comrade. The Sniper swiftly bolted another shot.

Another shot. A cry of pain silenced.

A shot to the head, of course. Straight through the Engineer's helmet and into his skull, his goggles masking his eyes and his mouth contorted in a half-shocked, half-agonized expression which was plastered onto his face as the Sniper reloaded. The battlefield was silent for a moment, but then he heard the sound of shuffling feet and glanced behind him, dropping his rifle.

As expected, it was a Spy. The BLU Spy, nonetheless. Sniper grabbed the kukri from beside him and turned, instantly slashing the weapon towards the Spy. He drew his arm back; naturally his knife was grasped tightly in his gloved palm. He did not release the backhand grip of the weapon, instead slashing forward as Sniper drew his arm back from the first strike.

The knife slashed into Sniper's arm, cutting through the skin, but not deeply. Sniper grunted in pain and slashed again, more recklessly this time, as blood trickled down his arm. Spy drew back again, dodging the strike with professional skill. Sniper thrust his Kukri forward, but the Spy grinned evilly as he made the movement, flicking his knife up; Sniper realized his mistake far too late, his expression changing to one of dread and desperate fear as Spy's body moved right to dodge the strike.

His knife came around, reaching behind Sniper. Spy flicked it back into a backhand grip, and as Sniper's arm began to twist round, his body coming with it, Spy thrust the knife forward, bringing it deep into the Sniper's now-exposed back. Sniper cried out in pain, blood flowing from the wound, and collapsed forward, dead, Spy retrieving his weapon.

Spy chuckled, cloaked, and left.


	2. BLU Spy

Spy's knife was now bloodstained as he crept through the RED base, invisible. A few drops of blood dripped onto his glove. He muttered unhappily, "You got blood on my suit…"

Spy's cloak was running low; he needed to find a place to decloak. Finding a nice set of barrels to hide behind, he took the time to snatch out his disguise kit and pick out a disguise. Sniper, he decided; it'd be fitting to take the place of the man he just murdered. He stood up and walked out towards the main base. Glancing around, he noted a Soldier and Demoman in the corner, loading their weapons; a Scout staring at his own reflection in another corner; and a Heavy, cleaning Sasha on the table in the center of the room.

"Sniper!" the Heavy cried out, "Where did you go?"

"Bloodeh spies," Spy said, in a perfect impression of the Sniper, "one of the spooks stabbed me."

"Spies are dime a dozen backstabbing bastards," the Scout in the corner said, finally turning to look at them. "Like ours'! Did ya see what he did with…"

Spy moved along, not wanting to recall what happened to him that day. He was sure he felt a pain in his face. He heard the sound of beeping and immediately slid behind the doorframe. His hand instinctively reached for his sapper and, as he was out of the RED team's line of sight, he decided to go ahead.

He snatched the Sapper from his jacket and calibrated it, twisting the nobs and dials. Once he was satisfied with the settings, he threw it into the doorway.

"Spy sappin' mah sentry!"

_One… two… three…_

"Sentry down!"

On cue, Spy ran through the doorway. He shouted to the Engineer, "What's goin' on?"

"Dang nabit dang it nabit!" the Engineer cried, kicking the ruined remains of his sentry. "Spahs!"

"I'll keep a lookout," Spy said, turning again.

"Hudda ha!"

The last sound he heard was the _woosh! _of a flamethrower, and the last thing he felt was the pain of a terrible burn.

"Dang spies…" he heard as the Engineer began to rebuild his sentry gun.


End file.
